


sick day

by Anonymous



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Aleron Lives, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Brother/Brother Incest, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Smut, SniffleFic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27479419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Auguste takes care of Laurent while he’s sick.
Relationships: Auguste/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48
Collections: Anonymous





	sick day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deripmaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deripmaver/gifts).



> My biggest enabler. 🥵

Auguste was a fool to think he could have ever handled Laurent alone. 

Sweat gathered in the crooks of his body: collarbones, waist, and all. Above him, the gentle weight of Laurent ebbed and flowed, and Auguste dared to open his eyes again. His breath caught. 

Laurent looked a dream, sunlight catching the gold of his hair, the highs of his cheekbones, like the guileless dapple of fawn prints. The fluttering of his long lashes every time he sank down onto Auguste's cock, gasping softly as his hands clung desperately to the only garment he wore—Auguste's sweatshirt. 

A reverent silence filled the room. Accompanied only by the wet sounds of skin on skin. Wandering hands found reprieve as they settled on Laurent's hips. To steady him. To guide him. To comfort him as Auguste thumbed along the curves of his body. 

Shifting slightly, Laurent let out a soft sound. 

"Did that hurt?" Auguste's eyes searched Laurent's face, flushed with fever. 

"No." Laurent shook his head. His grip on the sweatshirt faltered, and the grey fabric draped down to his waist. Licking his lips, he whispered, "I'm alright." 

Unable to kiss him, Auguste gave his thigh a light squeeze. 

The sweatshirt was still far too large for him. Bashfully, Laurent insisted on wearing the hood just so it wouldn't slip back and reveal the pale slope of his shoulders. In the crux of his waist, Auguste's hand rose and fell with the sound of heavy sighs, warmest where he felt Laurent's pulse, rabbit-fast. 

"Don't overdo it," Auguste said. "You're still sick." 

Laurent hummed in agreement. 

Auguste allowed himself a small laugh. His poor baby brother had contracted the flu from his petri dish of a high school. With their father away on a business trip, it fell to Auguste to care for him, and Laurent, half-delirious from the meds, made no secret of his disdain for it. 

_That old bastard._

_Hush, Lau._

A sneeze. 

_You know I’m right._

_I know, Lau._

Brushing aside the sweatshirt, Auguste took Laurent's leaking cock in hand. An adorable shade of red at the tip, he pressed a finger to it in a slow, precise circle. 

Laurent hunched forward with a tangled cry of pleasure. 

It had started with a simple nap. Laurent, plagued by night terrors even in the tired afternoons, had insisted on sleeping in Auguste's bed. Intimacy for intimacy's sake. He wore Auguste's clothes because the scent soothed him. Auguste would let him if it might calm the rapid beat of his heart. The hallowed press of Auguste's lips to each frighteningly tight knoll of Laurent's spine, threatening to come unraveled. Laurent’s responding iron grip, promising bloody scratches. 

_You're alright. You're alright. I'm right here._

And then the slide of his unclothed thigh slotting between Auguste's. Chest to chest and hands on napes, fingers twining into mussed locks of hair.

Laurent had touched his forehead to Auguste's own and begged, _Please._

Auguste had fit their lips together and promised him. He longed to live in the hollow of his throat. To follow after every breath he took and know his pleasure. None of his other lovers had ever been held like this. 

"Does that feel good?" Auguste kept his hold loose, moving his hand in time with the rocking of Laurent's hips. 

"Yeah," Laurent said. His legs spread wider in their straddle over Auguste, and he bit his lip. Glassy-eyed long before he’d taken to riding him, but gorgeous all the same.

He looked younger like this. No lines of worry set deep in his brow, the line of his jaw lax, breathing without pause for fear of being heard. Auguste could only imagine the look on their father's face if he were to ever discover them like this. Would it be disgust? Horror? Or perhaps a grim acceptance of it all? What a lonely brood they all made. 

With his hands now balled in Auguste's t-shirt, Laurent rolled his hips to meet Auguste's thrusts, pace growing more frantic. Though neither could see it, the hot slide of Auguste entering him thrilled them both beyond shame. A wonderful drag, hazed and slick. It took every last drop of control for Auguste not to flip Laurent onto the bedding and fuck him thoroughly. 

The febrile hue Laurent still carried was the only thing stopping him. 

It was hot. So hot he swore he could see the shape of their sighs. The air misted with the scent of freshly washed skin. 

Auguste let out a low moan. 

_Deeper_. 

Against his better judgment, Auguste's fingers found purchase on the yielding muscle of Laurent's ass, giving an appreciative squeeze before thrusting hard upward. Laurent keened, body on the verge of collapse as the last of Auguste's inhibitions wore away. There would be marks. Only he would know of them. 

Laurent was _tight_. Auguste's voice came out hoarse, "You close, Lau?" 

He received his answer in the form of an incoherent stream of words and supposed Laurent was, in fact, feeling better. 


End file.
